


Hope Is a Thing With Feathers

by blackkat



Series: 64 Damn Prompts [42]
Category: Bleach
Genre: AI!Ichigo, Alternate Universe - Future, Falling in love with a computer program is never easy, M/M, Major Character "Death", Romance, Sci-Fi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2012-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:12:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a ghost haunting Lab 15, a ghost made out of computer code and holographic projectors. The man it represents has been dead for 10 years, but even knowing that Shuuhei can't make himself stay away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope Is a Thing With Feathers

It's cold and grimy, the lights muted from accumulated dust. No one has set foot in this place in over ten years, and Shuuhei can feel it right down to his bones.

This is a dead man's lab.

By all rights, he shouldn't even be down here. The rest of the complex is still under renovation, waiting for Gotei 13 Industries to overhaul the building and implement their new, eco-friendly system of management. Shuuhei is only here in the lowest levels because his own lab is currently being upgraded, and he was curious about this area. The head of Shuuhei's department, a kind, gentle man named Juushiro Ukitake, had warned them all that, while Level 6 wasn't exactly off limits, there was nothing down there that should interest them.

Of course, the word "should" and the lack of a direct order to stay away had simply piqued Shuuhei's curiosity. He's a scientist, after all, and investigating is what he does.

This lab—Lab 15, from the plaque on the door—is one of the interesting things he found when he looked up the old rosters and assignments. It belonged, at one time, to a young scientist named Ichigo Kurosaki, considered a genius in his field of neuroscience and medical-specific robotics. Five PhDs and several Masters in extremely complex subjects to his name, and Shuuhei has to wonder how Gotei 13 ever managed to capture his interest. It's a large company, certainly, but with such credentials Kurosaki surely could have managed to find a place anywhere, even the elite Las Noches Corporation or the vast Hueco Mundo Incorporated.

But, for reasons unlisted in his file, Kurosaki had chosen Gotei 13. He had come, and worked, and contributed to or made several incredible advancements in his fields. Even now, with more current advancements on top of those he made, Shuuhei can hardly grasp the scope of his original work.

So Kurosaki had come, and worked, and just when he had been on the brink of a huge medical breakthrough in cryotechnology and a good dozen medical procedures and cures stemming from that line of work, something had happened.

Ten years ago, at the height of Kurosaki's career, there had been an explosion in one of the other labs.

While an investigation into the circumstances had suggested that there was something suspicious about the supposed accident, nothing was ever proven. Despite a body never being recovered, Kurosaki had been declared dead. No one could even say that he had been the target of the explosion. It hadn't been _his_ lab, after all, even though it was hardly a secret that he was assisting Dr. Aizen with his nanotechnology project there. Aizen himself hadn't been available for questioning after the fact, pulling up stakes and moving to Las Noches immediately, where he took over as president. It was a move that had many crying traitor, but nothing could be done.

Kurosaki was dead, and all of his genius, with the possibility of saving so many, many lives, was lost.

Shuuhei is a scientist, but he still has a heart, and the story makes something deep within him twinge. He's spent hours, now, staring at the company roster's picture of Kurosaki, wondering what he must have been like in life. And he's suddenly feeling _lonely_ , as though there's always been this empty, aching _space_ right next to him, and he's never noticed until now. It's a space, he thinks, that could be filled perfectly by a quick temper, a dry wit, and distinctive orange hair.

In the picture, Kurosaki glares at the camera with sharp brown eyes, genius all by vibrating through his skin, and Shuuhei _knows_ that he would have been fiery, bright to the point of blinding, like a magnesium flare. Kurosaki would have approved of this new humanitarian approach Gotei 13 is taking—medicines instead of biological agents, cures instead of weapons—and he would have been the first to push for the change. He would have fought for it, and won, and Shuuhei finds himself wishing that he could have seen it, could have stood on the sidelines and watched the fire promised by Kurosaki's hair, by his eyes, flare up to scorch the old earth clear of greedy men's rubble. He would have led the charge to recreate the company, rebuilding it from the ground up, and Shuuhei can already see that he would have succeeded.

It feels empty, horrible, that Kurosaki never had the chance.

Nevertheless, something that Shuuhei can't name has pulled him here, drawn him down to the last place a dead man went before he died. It's a little eerie, and a lot sad, and Shuuhei can find no rational reason for his presence but to drive the knife deeper, to exacerbate the sense of loss he feels. He sighs softly, disturbing the still, stale air, and reaches out to trail his fingers through the thick layer of dust on the computer console nearest him.

The soft whirr of machinery starting up is all but deafening in the silence.

Shuuhei jerks his hand back, feeling some strange mix of scientist-self-preservation and kid-with-his-hand-in-the-cookie-jar. This lab has been empty over ten years; there's no logical reason for this terminal to be on—to be _working_ , even. Gotei 13 shut down all but basic power to this level when they first started reconstruction.

But the humming in the air tells a different story. There's power in the system, and a considerable amount for this model of computer to be able to run so quickly.

A sharp beep marks the completion of the startup. "This laboratory is restricted to authorized Gotei 13 personnel only. Please state your name and identification number," an automated voice says politely, and it's all Shuuhei can do not to jump and swear at it.

Instead, he fumbles for the ID badge all of the scientists wear and waves it towards the scanner on the wall. "Shuuhei Hisagi, 692873, Section 4, Level 3." He's not willing to let the computer's security system call the guards just to indulge his fit of pique at being startled.

"Your voice doesn't match any of the files in my databases. When were you hired?"

For the second time in under two minutes, Shuuhei finches at the unexpected voice. This one comes from behind him, though, and he turns quickly, intending to defend his wanderings to one of his colleagues.

It's not a colleague, though. It's a man who is now incredibly familiar to Shuuhei, in spite of being dead. Orange hair, brown eyes, sharp features, eyebrows furrowed in what most might have called a scowl, but Shuuhei thinks of as more of a warning to keep others at bay—all the pieces match. They fit the photos he's been looking at for days now.

Ichigo Kurosaki stares at him from across the open floor of the lab.

For one breathless, wild, heart-stopping moment, Shuuhei can't breathe for elation, for pure _joy_ that this man he's never known is _not dead_. He takes one sharp step forward, hand already rising to grab Kurosaki and—

But then the image flickers, just slightly, pixels becoming visible as the power fluctuates, and Shuuhei's heart turns to iron in his chest. A hologram. A computer system, probably programmed by Kurosaki to assist with research before his death. The man is still dead, for all that he's standing here in front of Shuuhei, and it's heartbreaking.

"You're—" he starts helplessly.

The hologram looks at him with eyes that are far more aware than they should be, and takes a step forward, head tipping slightly to one side as he— _it_ —surveys Shuuhei closely. "Program X65-AI, designed to run if Dr. Kurosaki didn't access the lab for over a year. What are you doing down here? Files say the complex is undergoing construction."

The voice sounds exactly like the audio clips Shuuhei has heard from interviews and lectures, and he has to forcibly remind himself that this isn't the man he's been obsessing over for a whole month now. He steels himself to meet the AI's gaze and manages to hold back a flinch as he answers, "I was…curious. About Dr. Kurosaki and his work. Can you tell me anything?"

The AI looks briefly startled, and Shuuhei is just as startled to see the expression before his brain kicks in and helpfully reminds him that Kurosaki was an expert in robotics, and an incredible programmer; it's more than possible that he programmed this system to have basic emotions, especially if he based it off himself.

"His work?" the hologram repeats. "You want to know more about his work?"

Shuuhei can't help but wonder why that's such a surprise. Kurosaki was a genius. Surely _someone_ must have tried to pick up where he left off. With a frown, he leans back against one of the dusty tables. "You mean no one's tried to find out anything before? But…it's been ten years, and he's _still_ the leader in the field, even if he's dead. Why hasn't someone—?"

For some reason, this makes the AI smile, and he flicks a hand at the large computer screen. With a flicker, it comes to life, and files begin to stream onto the surface. "Dr. Kurosaki was a _doctor_ ," he— _it_ —says, and there's a lilt in the tone that suggests that this was, for Kurosaki, very much a belabored point. "Ten years ago, Gotei 13 was still focused on the manufacture and sale of weapons and biological agents. Dr. Kurosaki's work fell outside of their sphere of interest."

It makes sense, in a horrible sort of way. Only in the past two years has Gotei 13 begun to move towards the support of peace instead of warmongering. Kurosaki, as brilliant as he was, would have been seen as a side interest to the old CEO. Only now, a decade later, is his work being recognized as the amazing product of an incredible mind that it is.

The files on the screen pull Shuuhei's attention away from the conversation before he can say as much, however. The labels alone are fascinating, a glimpse of something that is _years_ ahead of its time, even now. Cryogenics as a healing process, bio-scans to identify problems in the blink of an eye, surgical robots that Shuuhei can only imagine, even with his biochemistry and robotics degrees and years of working on complex nanotechnology—there's enough here to keep Gotei 13 in patents for a very long time.

"Dr. Hisagi."

The AI's voice— _Kurosaki's_ voice—pulls him away from his gleeful contemplation of the wonders before him, and he blinks at the program, trying to pull his mind back from the sheer, beautiful _science_ of it to focus on the real world. "Yes?" he asks after a moment, shaking off the numbers and formulas and programming codes spinning before his eyes. "What is it?"

"Why did you come down here?" His—because, damn it all, Shuuhei can only think of the hologram as _he_ —tone is soft, despite the sharp wording, and almost gentle.

For one moment, Shuuhei considers waving the question away with another non-answer about Kurosaki's work—but somehow, when faced with those clear, bright eyes, even secondhand, he can't speak the half-truth. What comes out instead is a soft sigh, and he turns to lean back against the bank of controls beneath the monitor, facing the projection. "I felt like…I owed it to him," he says slowly, tasting the words as they come out. They _feel_ right, even though this is the first time he's admitted it, even to himself. "No one comes down to this level. No one thinks about his work, or what happened to him, or what he could have been, if he hadn't died in a stupid accident. I guess I felt guilty, especially since Gotei 13's finally taken a turn for the better."

The AI stares at him for a long moment, and Shuuhei almost feels like he's being weighed, judged. But that's ridiculous, because the AI is a _program_ , albeit a complex one. There's no way he's right.

Except that maybe he is, because the AI steps back a pace and nods, as though satisfied. Onscreen, the files begin to expand, a world of data and conclusions and connections, just waiting to be explored. "What would you like to start with?" the AI asks, and he's smiling again.

It's the most beautiful thing Shuuhei has seen since the first time he looked at a strand of human DNA, and he _has_ to smile back.

In the back of his mind, he knows this version of Kurosaki is simply a program, a bit of complex coding, and a far, far cry from the real thing, but right now he really can't bring himself to care.

* * *

Shuuhei spends that first night in the lab, pouring over Kurosaki's research with all the greedy glee of a toddler given free rein in a candy store. He staggers home at nine the next morning, head spinning, eyes gone square from staring at a computer screen so long. He's back five hours later, running on only three hours of sleep and a cup of truly awful coffee, but armed with his personal laptop and a thousand ideas to broaden or add to Kurosaki's work.

The lab should feel empty and barren, like it had the first time he had set foot in it, but it doesn't anymore. Somehow, over the course of one night, Shuuhei's point of view has changed. Now he can see the marks that Kurosaki's personality has left on the lab, on his notes. There's a sharp temper in the pen stroke scratching out a set of false data. Fierce determination shows in the bold handwriting of the notes that support his conclusion. His caring is obvious in the lists of diseases and symptoms the projects can cure or alleviate, pinned to one wall where it's clearly visible. Kurosaki isn't—wasn't—in this business for the money in the fame. He was a doctor, through and through.

The realization is like a fire in Shuuhei's blood, fierce and overwhelming. He can't leave now that he's found this. He _can't_ let all these years of careful, meticulous work go to waste, not when he can use his position to push it out into channels where it will actually be _used_. It's a debt that he owes to Kurosaki, for Gotei 13 having never found out the truth behind his death, for Aizen using his brilliance to jumpstart Las Noches, for being alive while the other scientist _isn't_. There's no logic behind it, for all that Shuuhei tries to justify it, but it's what he feels, and he can't let it go.

The AI is another presence that keeps the lab from feeling quite so empty. For all that he isn't really there, his existence is like a tangible memory of Kurosaki. Shuuhei is awed by the complexities of his programming, by the breadth of Kurosaki's knowledge of his field. The program is the perfect research assistant, and he's been given what must be Kurosaki's personality—sharp, dry wit, a deeply rooted drive to do good, and a single-minded determination that puts Shuuhei's own work ethic to shame.

Watching the AI is almost painful, at times—Shuuhei can see exactly the sort of man that Kurosaki was, and it _aches_ that it isn't really him. Shuuhei knows that, were the AI real, were Kurosaki still alive, he'd fall in love in a heartbeat.

But maybe it's already too late not to do just that.

A month after his first discovery of the lab, up to his elbows in the notes and processes of a genius mind he can hardly follow, Shuuhei puts his head down on the table and laughs.

He has to either laugh or cry, because he's gone and fallen in love with a _dead man_.

"Dr. Hisagi?"

There's a presence at his elbow, the faint humming of the hologram equipment that marks the AI's existence. Shuuhei raises a hand to wave him off, still chuckling weakly.

"It's stupid," he says, shaking his head. "So stupid. You'd just laugh at me."

The humming sounds louder, and when Shuuhei lifts his head, he can see the faintly glowing outline of the system's hand hovering just over his shoulder, as though about to touch. The AI's gaze is on him, sadder than any bit of coding should ever be, and he murmurs softly, "Dr. Hisagi, what's wrong?"

"I'm in love," Shuuhei tells him. "I'm in love with someone who doesn't even _exist_ anymore."

He leaves, after that. He can't bring himself to spend another moment in a place so very haunted. But he'll be back.

He always goes back.

* * *

It's another ten days before he manages to return, though. The builders are in the middle of upgrading his own lab, and can't seem to follow the simple instructions he left. Shuuhei has to oversee the installation of the new equipment himself, and the long absence from Lab 15 makes him sharp and a little irritable. He tries not to take it out on the workers, but the moment he has a free hour, he heads down to Level 6.

But when he arrives, the lights are already on, and the computer is humming away against the wall. Shuuhei frowns as he steps in, looking around the room. In the back, one of the machines has been moved, pushed out away from the wall, and a dark doorway gapes behind it. Frowning, Shuuhei turns, looking for the AI—because surely, no one would break into the lowest level of Gotei 13 to do some insignificant vandalism. The AI will know what's happened.

"Dr. Hisagi."

Shuuhei flinches and swears, spinning on his heel to berate the AI for—

But the words die unspoken in his throat. The figure standing in front of the computer is most definitely _not_ the AI. This one is solid, and warm, and Shuuhei can feel his vibrancy from all the way across the room. His heart stutters in his chest, sharp and uneven, and he staggers back a step.

"You're—"

Ichigo Kurosaki smiles wearily at him, bright brown eyes brimming with good humor and a trace of that sharp wit Shuuhei's come to love so much. His hair is a little longer than the AI's, his skin much paler, and he's sporting several new scars across the right side of his face. He's a little too thin, dressed in jeans and a loose button-down shirt, but he's undoubtedly _real_.

"Yeah," he says, and it's tired. He wavers, and almost against his will Shuuhei finds himself stepping forward to catch the other man with an arm around his waste.

The first touch is a shock to both of them. Shuuhei feels it, and he can tell Kurosaki does, too. But Kurosaki is warm-hot under his hands, all muscle and lean strength for all that he leans into the other scientist as Shuuhei seats them at one of the tables.

"Thanks." Kurosaki scrubs a hand over his face, and then flashes a crooked smile up at Shuuhei, wry and dry and a little hesitant. "How weird is it that I feel like I know you already?"

Shuuhei lets out a slow breath, his mind still spinning as he struggles to come to grips with this. Clearing his throat, he shakes his head quickly. "Probably…probably not as weird as me being in love with you even though we've never actually met."

Kurosaki snorts and leans into him, one hand reaching down to grip Shuuhei's. He pulls it up, guiding it to the back of his neck. There, half-hidden under his brilliant hair, is a small metal insert, about the size of a pinky nail. Shuuhei frowns, leaning forward to get a better look, and freezes as he realizes what it is.

A computer port, used on coma patients to connect their consciousnesses to computer terminals and allow them to interact with the outside world.

In an instant, everything connects. All the pieces fall into place. The scars must be from the explosion. Kurosaki was working on cryogenic healing pods right before he died. There's a hidden back room to the lab that Shuuhei's never seen before. It stands to reason that that room contains a prototype of the pod, and Kurosaki's been in it, frozen and only connected to the world through the Gotei 13 computers, for the last ten years.

"But…why?" he demands, breathless with the shock of _knowing_ what happened, of knowing why this man disappeared so abruptly so many years ago.

Kurosaki smiles at him faintly, but his eyes are grim. "Aizen was stealing research from the company, transferring it over to Las Noches. He was going to frame me for it and take all of my research on nanotechnology, turning it into something that could be used as a weapon. I caused the explosion in his lab, destroying his prototype, and then escaped down here, where I could block him from my databanks."

Shuuhei almost can't believe what he's hearing—but at the same time, he _can_. Aizen was— _is_ —a ruthless bastard, and Shuuhei can only imagine what lengths he would have gone to when Kurosaki's work was on the line. "Ten years," he breathes, trying to wrap his mind around it. "But…why now? Why come out at all?"

Kurosaki— _Ichigo_ looks at him, mouth tilted in a little half-smile that makes Shuuhei's heart ache in good ways. "Do you really have to ask?" he says wryly. "You aren't the only one who fell in love, Dr. Hisagi. I _was_ the AI. Do you really think I don't feel anything for you? And Aizen's safely gone now. The statute of limitations has run out on our work. He can't claim it anymore. I'm free to go home."

Shuuhei can't think of an answer to that, because Ichigo's hands are on his face, pulling him down until their lips meet, and it's a kiss that curls Shuuhei's toes, sends fire racing up and down his spine. He gasps into Ichigo's mouth and yanks the smaller man forward, half-into his lap, and then wraps his arms around him. Ichigo makes a wordless sound of approval and grinds down on the erection Shuuhei had been ignoring. It makes them both shudder, and Shuuhei pulls away, splaying his hand over the skin of Ichigo's back, underneath his shirt.

"Are you sure?" he asks, because he has to. "You want this?"

"Are you _blind_?" Ichigo growls back, dragging his head down again. His other hand is at Shuuhei's belt, undoing it and his slacks with deft movements. " _Yes_. Now, Shuuhei."

It's the low order—the sound of his given name hissed in that beautiful tenor he's been dreaming about for _months_ now—that does it. Shuuhei tugs Ichigo's jeans and boxers down around his thighs and curls a hand around their cocks, pulling sharply. It's a bit too much, dry and harsh, but Ichigo arches into the touch with a wordless cry, and Shuuhei isn't far behind. He keeps touch, keeps stroking, pressing their bodies together and meshing their mouths. It's hot and messy, borderline painful, but when Ichigo comes over his hand with a shudder and moan it's also the loveliest thing Shuuhei has ever seen.

* * *

"You do realize that we're absolutely ridiculous, don't you?" Ichigo manages after a few minutes, his head still resting on Shuuhei's shoulder.

Shuuhei is collapsed back against the table, loose limbed and pleasantly drowsy, and he only raises an eyebrow at the words. "You do realize that we're going to have to leave this lab someday, don't you?" he mimics with a faint grin. "As pleasant as it is in here, you've got a traitor to unveil and a life to reclaim."

Ichigo sighs, his breath a warm, humid kiss on Shuuhei's skin, and then pushes himself upright to look at the younger scientist. "Will you stay with me?"

Shuuhei smiles at him and pulls him down for another kiss. "Ichigo, you couldn't get me to leave if you _tried_."

"Good thing I'm not going to bother wasting my time, then, isn't it?" he murmurs, his own grin sharp against Shuuhei's lips.

"Yeah," Shuuhei agrees. "A good thing."

_Good. Everything now is very, very good._


End file.
